I Love my Bully

Chapter 01: Fishball

Chapter 1: Fishball

Lovely POV

Hello, I'm Lovely Bautista. People say I must be loving because my name is "Lovely," but that’s only their assumption. My name might be sweet, but I am far from it. I’m 18 years old.

Today’s the first day of school, and I caught a glimpse of a guy stepping out of a white van. My attention was immediately drawn to him, but suddenly someone bumped into me.

"How dare you!" I shouted.

"I’m so sorry, Lovely," the girl stammered.

"Sorry? That’s it? My clothes are ruined because of you. Clean this up immediately," I snapped angrily.

The girl quickly took out a tissue and began dabbing at the stain on my clothes, but before she could finish, a boy pulled her away.

"Step away from her," he said firmly to the girl.

"Hey, don’t interfere! She’s not done cleaning my clothes yet!" I retorted, glaring at him.

"It’s my right to interfere because bullying is wrong," he replied.

"And who exactly are you?" I asked, annoyed.

"Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that what you’re doing is wrong," he replied confidently.

"Wrong? For your information, I am never wrong. So stop meddling in my business," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I heard them call you 'Lovely.' You look nice enough, but your attitude is really awful," he said, unfazed.

"Yes, I know. I’m beautifully awful," I teased.

"Is there even such a thing as a beautiful monster?" he laughed.

"Of course! Right here," I replied with a smirk.

"Be serious. Just because you’re wealthy doesn’t give you the right to look down on others," he argued.

"This is my life, so I’ll do what I want. You don’t get a say in it," I shot back.

"I will intervene as long as I can because, frankly, you’re acting like a demon," he stated boldly.

"A demon? Sure, call me that if it makes you feel better. Now, leave," I ordered.

"Fine, I’ll let this go for now. But if you do this again, I won’t hesitate to stand up to you, even if you are a girl," he warned.

I laughed mockingly. "Are you trying to scare me? I’ve made plenty of guys cry. You might just be the 1,908th to leave in tears. Good luck with that."

"That’s what you think," he replied, walking away.

After my first class, I took a break and hurried to the canteen for a quick snack before my next session in the music room.

There, I saw the girl who bumped into me earlier, selling fishballs. I couldn’t resist approaching her.

"Hi!" I greeted.

"What now, Lovely? Wasn’t what happened earlier enough for you? Do you want me to get on my knees and apologize?" she asked, looking distressed.

"No! It’s all good now, really. I just wanted to help you. Selling fishballs seems fun. Can I join?" I asked, feigning enthusiasm.

"Are you sure?" she asked, surprised.

"Of course!" I replied confidently.

"Alright, then," she hesitated, but finally agreed.

"Hi, everyone! Can I borrow your attention?" I called out loudly.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Just watch and learn," I whispered back.

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Yohan's Point of View

Hello, I’m Yohan Ward, 18 years old, half-American and half-Filipino. People say I’m kind, and maybe even handsome.

I spotted "Demon Girl" selling fishballs with the girl I had helped earlier.

"Guys, come buy some fishballs! We have different flavors!" Demon Girl shouted enthusiastically.

"What on earth is that girl up to now?" I muttered.

"You must be the new transfer student," a guy nearby said to me.

"You probably don’t know much about Lovely yet. Let me tell you—this is all part of her act," he warned.

"Seriously?" I asked, astonished.

"I’m one of her many victims. She put on a whole show, making me think she was genuine. Turns out it was all fake," he explained.

"How awful," I said, frowning.

"She’s definitely planning something. Just watch," he said, as we both observed her closely.

"Come on, everyone! We have a variety of flavors for you to try!" she announced with a mischievous smile.

"Our first flavor is fishball with boiled rat and chili. Next, we have cockroach urine with sugar. And don’t forget the dog dung flavor, haha!" she laughed mockingly.

Angry, I walked over to her. "Anyone who eats this will definitely regret it," she taunted, laughing louder.

In my frustration, I pushed her back. She immediately stood up and slapped me.

"Lovely, aren’t you tired of bullying people? Leave her alone!" I yelled.

"And why would I stop? Bullying is fun," she sneered.

She picked up a fishball and threw it at the ground. "Dirty things belong on the floor. And as for her," she pointed at the girl, "your face is just asking to be deep-fried. Who knows, maybe if someone pities you, you’ll make a fortune. Hahaha!" she laughed cruelly.

I stepped in to shield the girl. "If you want to hurt her, you’ll have to go through me first."

"And as for you," she pointed at me, "you deserve a vinegar bath so you’ll smell as sour as you already are. Maybe then everyone here will be repulsed by you," she spat.

"How dare you," I shouted.

"How dare you speak to me like that," she replied, laughing mockingly.

"Everyone here is already hurt because of you, but you keep laughing like it’s a joke," I said, my voice stern.

"I laugh because it amuses me, and I have no feelings to spare for you all. Losers," she retorted with a wicked smile.

"You’re unbelievable," I muttered.

"And you’re stupid," she scoffed. "You started this argument, so I’ll be the one to end it," she said, walking away.

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Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for Part 2: "Hello, Ma'am."